#which is ridiculous !! if you liked it enough to say 'i'll stick to it' why are you spinning around and going the other way?? silly-silly!!

[keeps-ache]

MUSIC. [explodes]

[nonotnolan]

Jock Cock, Part 2

Check out Part 1 here.

"Excuse me, Professor Jones?" I wasn't expecting to be recognized out in public, but I did live in town, and it wasn't unheard of for a few of my more friendly students to engage in small talk if they happened to see me out grocery shopping or what have you. I'm usually too introverted to develop deep bonds with students, especially over a trivial intro course, but some people just want to be social.

"Please, just Mr. Jones. Or Kevin. I'm a teaching assistant, not a… Jared?" I certainly wasn't expecting a member of the basketball team greeting me out in public. "Do I… I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting to be recognized. I don't think you've ever been enrolled in one of my classes?"

He smiled at me, letting his bags drop to the ground. "Well, we've crossed paths before, I just didn't make much of an impression on you. I don't take it personally, I was a pretty non-descript guy." The thought of Jared ever blending into a crowd was… ridiculous, to say the least. My skepticism must have shown up on my face, because he started laughing at me. "The real me, not Jared. I'm the same guy who swapped with Adam last month."

I could feel the heat radiating from my cheeks as I recalled that night. He dumped three different loads in my ass once he was no longer my student. It was one of the most risky hookups I have ever had, but that made it all the more exciting. Especially since the man inside of Adam's body clearly had experience. Most guys with a fuck stick over seven inches were terrible in bed, but he was diligent about both foreplay and aftercare. Snuggling against a tight chest of rippling muscles, breathing deeply the manly aroma of his musky pits, gazing deeply into his eyes as his fingers ran through my hair… I didn't even realize I was daydreaming until I felt the strain of my cock against my boxer briefs.

"You wanna do it again?" he said, whispering softly. "Jared hired me to take care of Summer School exams for him. I've still got two more days inside of this body, and I'd love to see you again. That razor sharp mind of yours is just… the fucking sexiest thing about you, Kev. I want to be near you, I want to pull you in close and hold you tight." The stranger's hand slid down to his crotch and cupped his junk. "And I want to rail you with this jock cock until you scream."

I started to fidget with my suit jacket. "Jared... Adam... whoever it is that you are... look, it was risky enough when you were in the body of someone who graduated. Jared is... what, a junior? He's barely 21. And he's still a student"

"But he's not your student," countered the stranger. "I looked up the university policy. It only matters if there is a conflict of interest, like student and teacher. And age means nothing as long as the body is legal, which it is. Besides, you're... what, mid 30s? A bit older? That's nothing for hookup culture."

As always, the man had a point. Was he always this confident, or was that a side effect of wearing a jock's skin? "I mean, you're right, I just... I'm not a big fan of hookup culture. I know we had that night when you were Adam, but... I'd much rather go on a date and get to know you first. And I can't help but feel guilty that these athletes don't know you're having sex in their bodies, so that plus the hookup guilt is... it's a bit much for me. I really should say no. It's not personal."

Jared, the man inside of Jared, just smiled at me. "I don't know what sort of operation you think I'm running, but I make them all sign contracts that outline everything I'm allowed to do while I'm inside in their body, sex included. So if you don't want a hookup, I guess I'll just have to hang out a bit before we fuck. Why don't you come back to my place? We can hang out at the pool before we head upstairs."

"Pretty nice apartment complex, right? Jared's parents are loaded." He smiled at me as I glanced around the property. I knew the buildings in this part of town were incredibly expensive, but I didn't realize just how extravagant they were.

My eyes were drawn to the water droplets running down his muscular pecs. "Well, honestly, I assumed it was due to his status as a star athlete," I said, trying to keep my eyes focused on his face.

He shook his head. "Nah, they barely get paid anything, and the regulations around it are pretty bullshit. The scholarships cover the classes, but anything else is a crapshoot. Most of the athletes I hop into, I have them pay me by giving me extra time in their body. I don't think I could ever develop all this," he gestured at his chest for emphasis, "on my own. Being a jock is a lot of hard work and dedication, but borrowing it? Much easier. I love being able to borrow bodies like this, and doing their schoolwork is a breeze. It's a pretty sweet gig for someone like me."

"It sounds like you're being a bit hard on yourself, Mr...?"

The man in Jared's body shrugged. "Call me Mike, if you want. Or you can call me Fuck. That's what you'll be screaming later, when I'm balls deep in that ass of yours." It was one of the dumbest lines I'd heard, but the delivery was aided by the absolute stud who said it. "Come on, let's head upstairs. If you want a date, we can have coffee between rounds."

"You are going to be the death of me," I said, panting for breath. I could feel the sweat dripping down my thighs-- among other fluids, given that I'd already taken two loads from Mike's current body. I was falling for him, hard. "Okay, I have to be awkward. You clearly have a crush on me if you're trying to find me when you're in these hot bodies. But if you're not going to let me return the favor… where do you see this going?"

He just started laughing. "Why does it have to go anywhere? We're just two gay guys enjoying a series of casual hookups. It happens all the time."

I rolled off of the mattress and walked over to where I had tossed off most of my clothes. "Because I want it to go somewhere, Jar-- Mike. I don't want to have a series of casual hookups. I know a lot of guys are fine with that sort of culture, but… I'm not. I need more than this."

"Whoa, hey…" He came up behind me and pulled me close, and I could feel the warmth of his body. "Kevin. My guy. You don't even know what I look like. Are you in love with me, the idea of me, or the jock cock that I can provide to you?" He started grinding his growing erection against my bare ass for emphasis-- God, of course Jared's body was already prepared for round three. "I promise you, a relationship will never live up to your dreams. Don't ruin a good thing by trying to get even more. Just sit back and enjoy the dick, for as long as I can supply it."

I brushed his arm off my shoulder and stepped further away. "I can't… Mike, I'm not going to settle for 'good enough' in matters of love. And if that means ruining a good thing to chase what I want… what I need? That's what I'm going to do." I kept waiting for him to say something as I started getting dressed, but he just stared at me with his arms crossed.

He followed me out of the apartment, though he remained silent as he walked behind me. I guess he thought I would realize that his dick was too good to leave, and he had been right all along? I couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. We were both too stubborn to admit defeat.

"I'll… see you around in some other college stud, I guess."

Check out Part 3 here.

[erideights]

Little pieces here and there (5)

Pairing: Buggy x Fem!Reader (One Piece Live Action)

Chapters: one, two, three, four

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: light flirting, light metion of sex, a lot of feelings, super fluff (in their particular way)

A/N: I'M BACK WITH THE NEW AND LAST (????) CHAPTER OF THE SERIES AFTER AN HIATUS WEEK. I wanted to post something good, something beautiful, true to the characters and the story you all enjoyed reading as much as i writing! (sorry for the possible grammatical mistakes!)

Side note: this chapter is to be read with different time frames, so changing the lights of the room and their resting positions in bed!

"Say it."

"Nope."

"Why not!?" he whines, his beautiful dove eyes pleading. "C'mon baby. Say it. I deserve it. All the awards. All the honors." The fact he’s beneath her, trapped between her body and the mattress, doesn't help make him look less submissive. She has to admit, it’s extremely pleasant to see how his dignified ass drags himself for her.

"But it would be a lie," she says, sticking out her tongue in a gesture intended to make him suffer a little more. Unbelievable that this is the same man who forced her to beg for sex a couple of hours ago. "and I’m no liar."

''Didn't seem like a lie to me when you were moaning my name and cumming on my cock for the third time some minutes ago.'' Ah, there it is, his ego is back again. Or at least, a glimpse of it. Took a while to appear. 

In front of him, (Y/N) just smiles devilishly, which makes Buggy growl and look at her with pleading eyes again. "Look, we already established I know and even like how you need to play difficult, it's part of your charisma, but I need to hear it, okay? I will give you anything your wayward, fussy heart could desire. Consider it a prize."

''Anything?''

''Anything.''

Hmm. She plays along, and pretends to think about it for long, torturous seconds, shaking her head from side to side in slowmo, taking a deep breath. 

As expected, soon enough she decides to give in-- she’s satisfied after making him beg in her own particular way.

''Fine.'' She takes a breath and starts her dramatic performance, with one hand on her own chest, eyes closed. ''Oh, Buggy, you were right, you are the best lover I’ve ever had, thanks to you my soul has ascended and I have seen the One Piece.''

That is not the praise he was expecting about his sexual skills. Not even close. But was so /him/, so dramatic, exaggerated, and incredibly hilarious, that despite faking offense on his face, eyes half-closed, lips pressed together, fingers pinching her hips as punishment, he has to admit -he will not-, was funny.

''You're a moron'' That’s about everything he has to say on the matter.

‘’Like Ol’Axe-Hand?’’ She asks, raising an eyebrow, hoping he gets it. And of course he does. He's so surprised that he widens his eyes, smirking. Is she actually admitting how incredibly funny he is? ''You still remember that joke?''

''Was so bad it stuck with me since then like a fucking nightmare.'' Hit and sunk.

''Ouch''

"Don't worry, there's still time to improve the quality of your jokes. But for now I'll take the prize you promised.''

''Ugh, fine. What do you want?’' Buggy thinks he knows (Y/N), so he’s convinced she will ask for something impossible. A challenge that will ridicule him or an astronomical sum of money. ''If what you want are berries I’m sorry to inform you, sunshine, I'm broke, I still have to find...'' but the clown shuts himself when he feels the girl's fingers slowly caressing his sharp jaw, finally pulling him by his chin towards her. He leans in too, eyes fixed on her lips, yearning for the kiss he can see so clearly written in the dreamy way she looks at him.

There’s no need to announce it, nor to start it with their usual flirting or provocations. It's slow and doesn't demand anything at all, nor is intended to be the trigger of their next round.

It's just a kiss. Something so simple and intrinsically complex at the same time. And in the same way as if it had been the most fiery and passionate of his life, as not long ago, this kiss leaves him breathless, unable to form a single coherent thought that has nothing to do with her.

Oh, he’s down bad. Just like she is.

              …

And there they are on the mattress, she’s sitting on his lap, legs around him, his hands on her hips, hers on his abdomen in a relaxed pose. The scene is typical of two lovers who have known each other for a lifetime -or at least for years- and not of two people who just had the wildest sex of their lives less than a couple hours ago. For the first time. 

They tell each other anecdotes, surreal stories, and laugh together inside that little bubble they don't even know how it was created, where it came from, or how the hell it could have absorbed them so much, making them completely ignore the outside world.

"What do you mean a giant bird!?" she screams in laughter, her stomach hurting, her lungs burning. "Aha, yeah, laugh all you want but imagine thinking that you’re about to die turned into damn bird feed. It would fucking piss me off."

As it can’t be otherwise, (Y/N) ends up laughing until she cries with the story of how Buggy arrived at Loguetown, and the clown finds himself exaggerating his story more and more with each laugh he manages to get from the girl, eager to hear it again, knowing he’s the only cause of this beautiful melody.

It’s absurd how he would love -kill- to know more about her, ‘cause if he stops to think about it, he doesn't know this woman at all. He knows nothing beyond her name, her crew, and the fact that she has a bold sense of humor. She’s brave and sarcastic, keen, sharp, and much more intelligent and savvy than -in his opinion- all the idiots around her.

And this is how and when he realizes the post-nut clarity theory hasn't worked for him. Getting her out of his twisted mind will not be as easy as fucking her a couple times, get his needed ton of personal satisfaction from making her beg for him, and moving on to the next thing to do/achieve on his list.

Goddamnhim.

"Alright, as much as I love and enjoy being the main character, it's time for you to drop your femme fatale facade and show me who you truly are."

"Awh,’’ she smiles tenderly, reaching for one of his cheeks. ‘’you see me like a femme fatale? That's so cute."

"Cut the crap.’’ The clown slaps her hand away, not in a violent way, but offended. ‘’You're not easily intimidated and I noticed you're good with knives too. That's sexy, and it makes me curious as hell about what you did before you joined those shitty heads."

Fair enough, she would be curious too, so she thinks about it, a bit wary of talking about her private life because there is a part of her that prefers to keep it intact -in case she wants to come back to it-. However, she reasons, mentioning what she did without being very specific doesn’t reveal anything at all. It would piss her off if Buggy casually knows her mercenary name -by which she’s fairly known among marines and pirates alike- and connects some dots all of a sudden. 

Is he actually that smart?

"I was a mercenary." She says calmly, shrugging her shoulders. "With that angelic face?" He retorts in disbelief, raising both eyebrows, even though he knows it fits her personality just right. "You'd be surprised what you're capable of with it."

"No, no, I actually believe you." He cracks an amused smile, looking directly into her eyes after carefully scanning her face. ''I mean, If someone like you tried to sneak onto my ship I would know it’s a trap, either to kill me or to steal from me but I would end up saying ''whatever you say beautiful'' and would actually let you do your thing.''

He's an idiot but still, once again, he manages to make her laugh. “Looking like that, anyone would give you anything,” he adds because he is, in fact and undoubtedly, willing to give her a little more of himself. More time and more attention, because he should definitely be out there gathering his crew -only God knows what they'll be doing- and figuring out how to get to the Grand Line without a damn map.

The idea of asking her, or even suggesting she steals it for him, doesn't even cross his mind. Not even after having shared this /intimate/ afternoon together. He knows she won't do it, she doesn’t own him shit, she’s not one of these women who fall in love and suddenly do everything, and leave everything behind, for the man of their dreams.

And of course Buggy can see the way she looks at him, without an ounce of contempt or distaste for his extravagant appearance or the atrocities he's sure she knows he's committed and of which he's not one bit ashamed. She sees him as he is and still, she’s here, offering him back something as valuable as her time and company.

But she won't give him more, he is aware of that. That's why he didn't offer (Y/N) to run away with him when he escaped from Arlong Park, because as much as she enjoys his company and maybe, just maybe, the clown imagines, feels something for him, he has the impression she’s a disgustingly loyal person, to her principles and her people, and as much as she likes to flirt with him, she would have said no.

He must admit, that's also how he likes her. Strong, capable, independent. He would kill no matter who to have her by his side as part of his crew, although he knows it won't happen. He would settle, however, with the -hypothetical- opportunity to meet from time to time on the high seas or on any random island. To sneak away from their crews in secret, to disappear for a few hours in which all his attention, his entire being, could focus on her, lower the curtain just a little, leave the spotlight behind and relax.

There is a small part of him, the one that makes him unable to stop looking intensely at her with those blue eyes that mirrors his own soul, that truly hopes she feels the same.

…

''You know'' she starts, absently stroking his hair, the clown's head in her lap. ''I imagine-- no, I know the whole nose topic is a sensitive thing for you but honestly, it shouldn't-- big noses are incredibly attractive, and yours? Believe me, anyone would want to sit on it.’’

What.

He's so taken aback by the suddenness of the comment he completely forgets what they were talking about before and on top of that, he's unable to reply for some seconds, looking at her like she just started speaking in another, incomprehensible language.

He ends up raising an eyebrow, running his tongue over his red lips. ''Including you?''

''Including me''

''Well, sunshine, today's your lucky day then'' Sitting up, in a blink of her eyes he turns, catches the girl's hips and drags her with him, lying down, leaving her sitting on his chest while he rest his head on the pillow. Buggy winks at her, licking his lips again, this time cheekily rather than thoughtfully. “I’m about to make another one of your dreams come true.”

''Horny bastard.'' she whispers, swallowing saliva. What a view, having him between her legs again. ''Never denied, sweetheart'' with a low, erotic, and breathtaking laugh, he surrounds both her thighs with his arms and pulls her body up in a quick movement, causing a sudden brush of his nose against the inside of her thigh.

(Y/N) shudders and takes a deep breath, spreading her legs a little further as she settles them on the pillow. ''Show me what else you can do, captain.'' To that he just groans, already getting hard with just having her on top of his face and her way of talking to him, pushing his buttons just the right way.

In no time she’s a complete, total, and absolute mess, writhing with pleasure. Hands grabbing his hair, hips rocking over his mouth, forcing his nose to rub against her clitoris, she softly moans his name, an occasional insult or any other possible blasphemy.

''Oh, fuck-- Buggy.''

…

Worn off makeup all around her body, sun setting, long hours spent together in which they have told funny, long stories about each other's life and of course, in which they have ended up letting free -once again- that suffocating sexual tension that attracts them to the other like a month to a lamp. Buggy, surprisingly, ends up letting his guard down to the point where he falls asleep, and not long after, he starts snoring.

(Y/N) knows, it's time to leave and look for her friends. She also knows she warned them about her obsession with the city and that the chances of her getting lost were high, and in that case they should not worry about her, blablabla, because she would come back sooner or later. She didn’t even remotely expect the reason for her disappearance would be a self-declared enemy -Luffy’s enemy- of her crew, tho. Neither was she going to spend so much time away from them to be with him.

The excuses she will need to cover her tracks are endless, and a pain in the ass without even started to think about them yet.

Will Zoro still be lost somewhere on the island? Because she obviously assumed, he got lost as soon as they split.

Still in bed, she takes a moment to calmly look at him. (Y/N) is aware of how this may be the last time they ever see each other, and -not- surprisingly, this thought sparks a pang of sadness in her. She really likes him. She wouldn't say she is in love with him, because those are big words and they barely know each other yet, but... he was right, the chemistry between the two was something impossible to deny. And it hasn't weakened, nor disappeared a single bit after sex. Quite the opposite-- It has become something more, a kind of deep and sincere fondness that in this precise moment, dark outside, distant voices over the window from drunkards and bastards around the streets, his breathing calm for a fraction of second, his eyes closed and the fresh breeze that enters the room, invites her to caress his blue hair while he sleeps, sighing.

It’s been a long, long time since (Y/N)’d enjoyed this kind of genuine, absolute peace, sharing with someone she cares about, a room where time does not exist and life is just a thought instead of reality.

Part of her wishes or better said, acknowledges, she would stay here the entire night if she could. The other says that’s ridiculous, and that those are her hormones talking and nothing else. It would pass.

But does she want it to pass? To fade away?

Finally getting out of bed -all her willpower at once- after long minutes in which she simply memorizes every possible detail around her, she begins to retrieve her clothes scattered throughout the room and get dressed in silence, trying not to wake him up.

Through all this process, in the depths of her head resonates a single thought, ringing as loud and strong as an alarm. She’s unable to shut it up. She can’t ignore it either. It's another kind of thought she shouldn't have, and at the same time… feels so natural, so logical, she doesn't feel guilty for having it.

But should she listen to it? Should she follow it?

Taking a seat in the chair that fulfilled its great purpose a few hours ago, she sighs, again, head resting on her hand, elbow on the table. With a small smile, her eyes fall back on that ridiculous, snoring clown. And then, she just knows.

Reaching to a little secret pocket in her pants, she takes out a small piece of folded paper and starts to open it slowly, being careful to not tear it apart, leaving it on the table of the room once the copy of the map of the Grand Line can be perfectly seen. When (Y/N) suggested her crew make a couple of copies in case something happened to the original, she never thought she would use hers like this, but she doesn't regret it in the slightest.

Biting the tip of her tongue, her eyes scan the partially darkened room, jumping from side to side. When she finally finds what she was looking for, she leans over the table, and taking the pen from the inkwell, she writes in the upper right corner of the map "I will be waiting for you right here, come find me" .

If someone asked her why she does this, why she feels this, why does she decide to ignore her common sense and give something so important to someone as -objectively- miserable as him, she would simply answer that there are things… or better said-- not things, but the little pieces here and there, pieces of himself left in her during conversations, shared glances, laughter, flirts, light touches and the deep strong ones that came after those. It's the way he tried to make her laugh at all costs or how he didn't give up trying to win her over. Those blue eyes so intense she would swear, they reached her soul, or the small, genuine smile she knows she has seen this same afternoon, really far from the forced, crooked, exaggerated ones he usually has.

It is all of this and much more, and opening the door of the room, closing it again so that no one disturbs Buggy while she escapes the building and heads to her ship to find her crew, she knows she can't wait to see him again.

She knows she will. Her sixth sense tells her so.

[confiaenanaa]

Hi!! Could you do one in which Em meets reader's parents and he's nervous they won't like him and keep asking reader how to dress, what to say or do??

nervous - eminem

fem!y/n x Marshall Mathers

masterlist

synopsis: Marshall's nervous about meeting Y/N's parents.

A/N: had a lot of fun writing this one! I know my chapters are short and stuff, but I hope that soon I'll be able to get one out that's super duper long for you guys!

Marshall had never imagined he’d be sitting on his bedroom floor, surrounded by piles of his best clothes and shoes, all for a girl. Well, not a girl; the girl. Y/N was his diamond, his crown jewel. He adored her in every way possible, which is why he was stressing so hard over meeting her parents. This was a very big deal to him; if her parents didn’t like him, what would come of the relationship? 

-Fuck it. 

That’s what he kept muttering to himself as he dialed Y/N’s number in his phone. It rang once, twice, three times, and finally…

-Hello?

-Hey baby.

-Oh, hey, Marsh! What’s up?

-So, I was picking out what I was gonna wear tonight when I realized that I have nothing!

-You’re so dramatic, you have a huge closet! You’ll find something in there.

She was right. He had a plethora of clothes in various styles. There had to be at least one decent outfit somewhere among the mass of fabric tainting the cleanliness of his bedroom. Sadly, he still thought none of it was good enough.

-I actually don’t. Nothing here is nice enough to wear to meet your parents.

-Marshall, my parents aren’t some strict, stick-up-the-ass, crazy people. They don’t really care about what you’re wearing as long as you don’t look homeless.

-Have you seen what I wear? I do look homeless!

-No… you look like a classy homeless man. There’s a difference.

-Baby, I’m serious. I’m real stressed here.

Y/N sighed at his apprehension. He truly was ridiculous at times. 

-What do you want me to do about it?

-Well, can you come over?

-Fine. Be there in 10.

Y/N hopped in her car after throwing on some clothes and took off. She herself needed to get ready, but that need not be mentioned. She’d figure it out. Once she pulled into his driveway, she saw him standing at the door, visibly anxious. Y/N stepped out of the car and greeted Marshall.

-Hey, baby.

-Hey. Help me please.

He sort of jogged up the stairs and led her to his bedroom. Y/N audibly gasped at the mess he’d made. Clothes strewn all over the floor, shoes on the table, perfumes thrown on his bed, the man was a wreck. 

-Good god.

-I know. I have a bit of a mess. But, ignore that. Can you help me pick everything?

-Yeah. Yeah, okay.

Marshall went through the mess finding outfit after outfit. Y/N said all of them were fine, but he wanted his outfit to be great. At this point, Y/N was saying they were great just to get him off her ass. She was running out of time to get ready. 

-Baby don’t lie to me! Tell me if the clothes are actually good, please.

Y/N groaned and stood up from her spot on the bed. She went over to the pile farthest from them and grabbed a nice shirt. Then, she went over to a pile of jeans on the other end of the floor and picked up a pair of jeans that were nice and hadn’t touched the floor yet. Next, she found the shoe pile and grabbed a matching pair of nice jordans and a nice smelling perfume in the pile next to them. She put it all together in front of Marshall and his jaw dropped slightly. 

-Wha… how did you…?

-Magic. Y/N shrugged. She finally went over to the closet and grabbed the nicest clothes she could find from the small and, quite frankly, lacking collection of clothes she kept at Marshall’s house.

-Wow, baby. You look… great.

Marshall looked like a man reborn; a phoenix reborn from the ashes. He was a new man. He looked classy and spiffed up. He wore nice jewelry and a nice watch, but not so nice as to draw attention or to gloat upon his success. 

-Thanks, you don’t look too bad yourself.

Y/N smiled as Marshall grabbed her hand and guided her to his car. She knew that her parents would love him no matter what, but she still liked teasing him and making him work for it. 

-Well, are we going?

[forsinnersandsaintsalike]

A spoiled little sister

Stu’s spoiled little sister

The Ultimate Enabler

Stu takes spoiling you to the next level. If you even hint that you want something, he's already plotting how to get it for you.

"You want those shoes? Say no more, sis. They're yours."

Whether it's sneaking you into an R-rated movie or "borrowing" something expensive from your parents, Stu's motto is, "Rules are for other people."

Chaotic Protection

Stu may seem goofy and laid-back, but the second someone messes with you, he flips a switch.

"Who hurt you, sis? Tell me their name, and I'll make sure they regret being born."

Unlike Billy, Stu doesn't do subtle. If someone makes you cry, expect Stu to confront them in the loudest, most unhinged way possible.

"Hey, buddy! Yeah, you! Wanna see what happens when you mess with a Macher?" Cue unsettling laughter and the guy bolting in fear.

Over-the-Top Gestures

Stu loves being the center of attention, and that extends to how he spoils you.

If you mention wanting to try a new dessert, he shows up with five different versions of it. "Didn't know which one you'd like, so I got them all."

He once threw you an impromptu birthday party-on a random
Tuesday-just because you said you were bored.

"Why wait for your real birthday, huh? Every day's a party when you're a Macher!"

Encouraging the Chaos

Stu actively encourages your wild side. If you want to skip school, he's already planning the getaway.

"Life's too short for algebra, sis. Let's go to the arcade instead."

He's the first to cheer you on when you make a dramatic entrance or roast someone who deserves it.

"That's my girl! You've got the Macher flair!"

Sibling Shenanigans

Stu loves pranking you but never crosses the line. He once filled your shampoo bottle with glitter, but when you started crying, he immediately bought you expensive replacements.

"Aw, don't cry, sis. Here, take this. It's the good stuff."

You two have a secret handshake that's ridiculously complicated but never fails to make you laugh.

When Someone Flirts with You

Stu doesn't know the meaning of chill when it comes to guys flirting with you.

"Oh, you think you're good enough for my sister? That's cute."

He's all smiles and jokes on the surface, but his energy gets darker the longer the guy sticks around.

If they don't back off, he'll go full Stu: unhinged laughter, close-talking, and vague threats. "Ever wonder what it feels like to be hunted? Nah? Want me to show you?"

Afterward, he acts like it's no big deal. "What? I was just protecting you!"

When You Ask for a Big Favor

Stu never says no to you, ever.
You've got him completely wrapped around your finger.

"Stu, I need your help with something..."

"Say no more, sis. I'm in." He doesn't even wait to hear what it is.

Need a ride? He's got you. Need help sneaking out? He's already at the window with a ladder.

"Stu, I didn't ask for a grand entrance."

"But it's more fun this way!"

[fractualized]

Zdarsky’s run on Batman ends soon, thoughts? 🎤

lmao I feel like I could either toss out a dismissive one-liner or rant for like a dozen paragraphs. Guess I'll go with the latter.

We'll, I'm certainly not going to miss him at the helm. I read Batman: The Knight, and even though I agree with the criticism of the end, it showed competent storytelling with a good emotional core, which is the most basic of standards, but let's be real, this is comics, I'll take competent any day. And when his Batman run started, I had caught up on Snyder-King-Tynion Batman and was excited to follow a run in real time.

I'd say I stopped having a good time when Bruce got sent to the alternate universe. Penguin faking his death was fun. Bruce being pursued by a dramatic robot version of himself was fun. Bruce again fretting about protecting the family was… par for the course. Calling back to Zur-En-Arrh didn't bug me because I hadn't read that full storyline yet, so it felt like a gateway to digging back into lore. Bruce surviving a fall through the Earth's atmosphere was too fucking ridiculous but the kind I can look past. (Imagine you're a DC writer. You have the idea: lol what if Batman got out of this by surviving a fall from the moon. You have opened that door in your mind. Do you have the will close it or would you be like FUCK IT LET'S DO IT?)

The Red Mask universe, however, dragged any momentum at that point to a stop, and I honestly don't care enough to dig deep into all the reasons why, which I guess gets at the core of what was wrong with the Red Mask universe. (Skeleton Jim Gordon was the most interesting thing but he was just a temporary side effect or something? Whatever.)

But, of course, since I'm a Joker fan, Darwin Halliday was a major sticking point as the most boring Joker to never joke. Nearly everything Zdarsky did with Joker was a major sticking point.

It still drives me crazy that from Snyder to the Zdarsky run, we had a Joker who tried to force Bruce both away from the batfam and Selina and back to basics multiple times, so their battle could be one-on-one again. We had a Joker who, after Bruce left him to die, was notably depressed and suicidal at the end of Joker 2021. He is still that way at the start of The Man Who Stopped Laughing.

And you could follow from that with the basic beats of what Zdarsky did. You could say Joker is disillusioned with his relationship with Batman, and that's why he turns to Zur-En-Arrh, a real Batman. But no, everything has to be too fucking complicated. We have do yet another retcon of so much other stuff and say that Joker always was looking for Zur. And we have to a weird take on Three Jokers because people were really biting at the bit to get a real answer within canon like a decade after Johns wrote that nonsense?? I don't know, I don't do marketing research, but I'm pretty sure if they just quietly never addressed it, it would be fine.

And the freaking Captio stuff. Ugh. UGH. I really just. I feel like this is a product of overthinking. "Well, Batman is so thoroughly trained, it only makes sense that Joker had at least some of the same training to beat him." No. Fuck that. We don't need that. Joker rivals Batman out of sheer audacity. I like that it doesn't really make sense that a clown pushes him to the limit. I like the juxtaposition of Bruce having to do so much training and learning to survive, but Joker is a cockroach revived by the narrative. I like Joker being a plague and a mystery that Batman cannot resolve. I like Joker being essentially absurd. No, it doesn't make sense, but he's here to stab you out of love and you better know how to dodge.

So much of Batman comics now are not about telling a fun Batman story. They're stories about Batman stories, just circling back and cannibalizing each other into a total fucking mess, and putting the city on the brink of destruction so much that those stakes no longer have meaning. There has to be a writer out there who wants to get back to just telling a smaller action/detective story that makes the reader give a shit about what's happening instead of feeling like maybe they're just not getting it, like they missed homework.

And I say that as someone who started reading Morrison's full run when Zdarsky's started so I could have the Zur background. I had to pause when Morrison's writing got to be too much (for the bad reasons!). I intended to jump back in again, but then Zdarsky's run nosedived and the effort no longer seemed worth it.

Especially when everything paused for Gotham War. Jesus Christ. The only good thing to come out of that was Rosenberg's second Red Hood issue. But speaking of Gotham War, I do wonder if there'll be an article years from now that will reveal Zdarsky had to deal with too much editorial fiat. He had to interrupt his Zur story not only with the badly executed Catwoman plot and the Knight Terrors, but cram in a Three Jokers explanation.

And speaking of Rosenberg, I can't end without mentioning that because he started TMWSL around the same time Zdarsky started on Batman, and they both had their protagonists dealing with other versions of themselves, man, there was such potential for a crossover event. Me and my pals had lots of fun theories about how these series would converge, because the idea that they wouldn't seemed ridiculous. There were two Jokers in TMWSL, and at the same time in Batman #131, Halliday seemed to have created three of them. I didn't like Halliday, but still, what did that mean? It would be ridiculous for those developments to be unrelated, right? RIGHT?

Joke's on us, as usual. 🤪

[bellatrixobsessed1]

The Fairy Of Fail

Summary: Icy is a horror and true crime podcaster, Bloom uploads epic fail montages. Bloom has made a montage of all of the Trix's most humiliating moments.

"Hey everyone! Bloom again, thee Fairy of Fail! And today I have some great clips lined up for you!" Bloom announces on the screen.

Blooms face disappears from the screen and in its place appears a fairy with short brown hair, amber eyes, and a khaki jacket carrying a suitcase that is ready to burst. She is walking past a trash can and a small set of stairs, leaving the viewer to wonder where and how the fail will happen. Starting strong, apparently, the fairy passes the stairs and the trash can without issue. Instead a stray strap of her suitcase catches on a door handle and she trips into another fairy who drops her lunch tray right onto the fallen fairy.

The second clip showcases a witch, Lunilla she recognizes, carrying a cauldron. She isn't paying attention being so deeply invested in a conversation with Shilly. She manages to trip and fall right into her cauldron where she gets stuck.

Icy watches clip after clip and endures Bloom's ridiculous commentary, half expecting to see any one of the Trix's own mishaps appear.

Bloom must be waiting for the right moment, biding her time for the prime opportunity for humiliation. Or, perhaps, she is hoarding clips upon clips to make an entire video devoted to the three of them.

Icy will kill the fairy, she swears it! No matter how many appearances that it might cause her to make on Bloom's video page.

"I can't believe that people actually watch this shit." Icy glares at the screen.

"I don't know, I think that it's kind of funny." Stormy remarks. "Did you guys see that one with the specialist and the troll!?"

"Of course you think that it’s funny." Darcy mutters. "How did you even find this anyways, Icy?"

"Do you just, like, stalk your nemesis?"

Icy shrugs. "Just appeared on the homepage one say." It is a sound enough explanation and much better than having g to admit that xFairy0fFailx had commented under several of her own videos.

For once, the witch can say that she didn't  initiate this particular squabble.

Frankly she would like to wager that Bloom is stalking her pages; true crime and horror movie discussions don't typically cross paths with fail videos and yo mama joke compilations.

The fairy, Icy decides, has the sense of humor of a 10 year old child.

Maybe it's about views; she is trying to get more of them than Icy has. But that wouldn't explain the comments that she likes to leave: 'I'll murder dat ass like a chupacabra witg sheep!', 'the only true crime I see is how snatched your waist looks in that skirt!', or most recently, 'have you slapped the Mothman's juicy ass yet!?'

She has half the mind to tell the fairy that she has indeed done so and that they have a dinner date scheduled for next Tuesday.

"She's the one that you've been complaining about, isn't she!?" Stormy guesses. "The one leaving all of those comments?"

"She is." Icy grumbles. "Because of course she is..."

Darcy quirks a brow and suggests, "maybe she's trying to get your attention to do some kind of weird collaboration video wit you?"

"What if she's trying to flirt with you!?" Stormy asks.

Icy isn't sure which theory displeased her more. "Oh darkness, what if it's both." Icy massages the bridge of her nose.

Stormy cackles.

Icy fails to see the humor in it.

.oOo.

Her antics have finally gotten her the response that she had been hoping for. After several very sassy, very comical responses to her comments, Icy has finally demanded to meet her in person again. She had made sure to ask why Bloom was being so indirect, it isn't as though the two of them have ever had any qualms about just popping in on one another before. Icy almost always shows up on her doorstep to start drama and throw a few hands. 

“Why couldn’t you just stick your desire for combat in a text? Or, you know, just show up at our doorstep like a normal nemesis?” Icy demands again.

“Because that’s no fun!” Bloom declares. With a boop to Icy’s nose. She is feeling rather bold today. “You have the most hilarious comebacks I’ve seen on the web and the viewers are loving it!” 

Icy deadpans. “Clicks. You’re doing this for…clicks!?”

Bloom nods. But that isn’t entirely true, she would be lying if she didn’t admit to herself that she had started her Fairy Of Fail account just to upload various clips and montages of the Trix doing their best but ultimately falling short. A way of giving them a taste of their own medicine for constantly tormenting Mirta, Lucy, and other witches that they found to be inferior.

Ultimately she couldn’t bring herself to go through with it, what kind of fairy would it make her to be vengeful. 

But that won’t stop her from having a least a little bit of fun. “I also needed you to get mad enough to check in on me.” 

“So this is a trap?” Icy quirks a brow.

Bloom nods.

“Okay, so clearly you need some help with mischief and petty evil; rule number one of traps.” She pauses. “Don’t say that your trap is a trap until after the person has been effectively and helplessly trapped!” 

“I didn’t!” Bloom declares. “I put a spell on the door that makes it impassable for at least three hours!”

“Your windows are looking very smashable right now.”

“Those have been spelled too!”

“I will freeze a hole through the floor and then it’s over for you.”

“You can do that but then you’ll put yourself right in the middle of Alfea’s lunchroom and there will be so many people there.” Bloom points out. “Or you can sit on the couch and watch one little video with me.”

Icy blinks before falling more deadpan than before. “You lured me here to make me watch shitty memes videos with you?”

“Something like that.” 

“You’re going to make me watch your even shittier videos aren’t you?” She grimaces. “Oh darkness, you’re going to make me be your test audience!”

Bloom smirks. “Take a seat, I have snacks.” 

“Snack on this!” She plunges her hand into the popcorn bowl and lifts it back out with a palmful of popcorn and her middle finger extended.

“You’re so creative and funny. We should make a video together.” Bloom pats her back. 

With a groan, the witch lets the popcorn fall back into the bowl. “I don’t know if you know this but reading scary internet stories isn’t exactly compatible with…” she crinkles her nose, “whatever you’re doing here.”

Bloom turns the screen on. Icy folds her arms across her chest but she sits down, “alright, hurry up and get this over with so I can get on with my day.” She grumbles. “Expect a very in depth and brutally honest critique of your editing and video composition skills.”

“I will. Just make sure that you also give an in depth and brutal critique of the content.”

“Won’t be hard, your clips are always so lame.” 

Bloom has a feeling that Icy has a feeling that she knows exactly what she is about to watch. The woman scowls at the computer screen as the first clip rolls. It is a rather mundane moment in comparison to what is to come, the moment where Musa slaps Icy in front of Stormy and several Cloud Tower witches. Bloom had thought about editing it with a slow motion repetition and an emphasis on the slap sound. 

Icy rolls her eyes. 

The next clip is of Stormy getting zapped by the scales. “That one isn’t even a good clip!” Icy insists. “We won that battle! We stole the codex and I blasted your boyfriend into an eternal sleep.” 

“If it was an eternal sleep then why is he awake and in my DMs even though we broke up.”

“Do you want me to put him into an even more eternal sleep? I can put him into a deeper eternal slumber.”

“You would do that for me!?” Bloom holds her hand to her chest. “Even though I’m forcing you to watch every single moment where we kicked your asses!?”

“I’ll put you into a sleep so eternal that it is a coma.” Icy grumbles. 

One after another the Trix’s worst moments flash across the screen; fighting and nearly losing to Amentia, that time when they had fought them in the vacation realm only to be swept away by flood waters, plummeting into the Black Willow’s tears and emerging as children, Griffin blasting the three of them into the Detention Dimension…

On and on until the montage ends with what Bloom believes is their most spectacular failure; the Pixie Village incident.

By the end of it Icy is slumped so far down the sofa that she may well slip off of it. She keeps her arms firmly folded across her chest and wears something between a scowl and a pout on her face. Bloom swears that she hears the woman mutter, “darkness, we’re pathetic.” 

“How did you do it?” Bloom asks. 

“How did I do what?” 

“Become the most popular witch at Cloud Tower? You’re kind of cringe.” 

Icy makes some sort of half choking noise. “I am not!” 

“Then explain this!” Bloom replays the clip of her getting hit by her own rebounding spell once more.

“No.”

“No!?”

“I won’t explain it.” 

“That’s fine because I think that I already know! I think that people just don’t notice that you’re a big, kind of clumsy dork because you hide it under so many layers of darkness and villainy.” 

Icy gives a haughty little sniff but Bloom swears that her cheeks are at least a little pink. “Right.”

“You’re also really adorable!” Feeling daring, she ruffles Icy’s hair.

Icy grits her teeth and snarls, face fully flushed. Perhaps a smarter fairy would be trembling with fear at the plummeting temperature. Bloom flashes a smile and pats Icy’s reddened cheek. It grows redder still and the air becomes frostier. 

It isn’t the first time that she has made the witch blush. There’s something rather precious about it. Even if it comes with a death risk. 

“You want to see adorable? I’ll show you…” She trails off into a sputter. “Is that a camera? Are you recording this, Bloom!?”

“I might be.”

.oOo.

Oh she is going to kill the fairy. Freeze her so solid that nobody will be able to tell that she was anything but an ice sculpture. 

“If you do a podcast with me, I won’t release it as bonas content alongside my Trix special!” She pauses. “I also won’t release the Trix special. One way or another, you’ll be featured on my vlog.”

“So you’re blackmailing me?”

Bloom nods.

As agitating as it is, Icy has to respect it; it is just so delightfully diabolical in the most petty sense. “For what? Why would you want to do a podcast with me?”

Bloom shrugs, “I like your content and think that we could make some really cool content together. Something that’s creative, edgy, and witty. And don’t ask me why I didn’t just ask you because we both know that you would have said no.”

“You don’t even like horror…”

“That is not true! When I was like six years old I went to a sleepover and watched Amityville Horror. I told my mom that I was going to be watching a fantasy movie but I lied. I had nightmares for weeks but I own the DVD now.” 

“Wait until you learn that it was based on a true story and I ought to drag you to that house, summon whatever demons are still there, and coax them to possess your soul.” 

“Sounds like a great way to start our new vlog together! The viewers will love it.”

“You think that you’re really clever don’t you, Bloom?” 

“Because I am.” She beams. “So what do you say, start a horror and true crime vlog with me?”

Truth be told it doesn’t sound like a particularly dreadful idea. Darcy and Stormy join her for videos now and then but Stormy can’t stay focused long enough for a podcast and Darcy prefers more practical themes like witchcraft tutorials and instructing views on how to steal someone’s man effortlessly. “Like I have a choice.” She mutters more to herself.

Bloom pokes at her cheek. “We’re going to have a great time making videos together!”

“Yeah and by the end of it I’ll be covering a story about your mysterious disappearance and I’ll have to pretend like I know nothing about it.” 

Bloom laughs. Laughs to the point of tears. Icy exhales deeply—she is in for quite a time. She isn’t sure what kind of time she will be having with the fairy but it will certainly be some kind of time. 

“What mysterious disappearance are we going to cover first?” Bloom inquires. 

It rolls off of her tongue before she can stop it, “the mysterious disappearance and untimely death of my dignity.”

[amoransia]

Really late, but here's my ekuoto chapter 70 commentary. Nothing special, just me freaking out. You know. The usual.

Watch out for spoilers!

Dante got a very special dialogue balloon with "..." in it. Which is curious to me. I'm sure it means some sort of reflection or surprise happening within him; I really want to what he's thinking. How do you feel? Knowing that the that child you were entrusted can't even bear to be awake anymore? That he runs to escapism? Must suck. Anyway.

On the other hand, dearest Daniel is real composed. Good job on getting info out of Belphegor. That's not really a high bar, though lmao... I mean, how are you a demon and can't LIE? Embarrassing... Go back to demon high school or something. Fall from grace again! The whole premise of your existence is being a lying thing that leads people to sin, and you're here having communication issues??? Dude. That's so moe.

Everyone thinking Belph's got something up his sleeve is fucking hilarious. No. Sorry. He's not Kira or anything like that. It's not all according to his "keikaku". He's just kinda dumb and suffers from Villain Monologue Syndrome...

Him saying "my witch", though... ough! (takes critical hit)

Really funny how he showed him off sleeping and everything. Why are you bragging? Is this something to show off? I guess it is for you... I'd be embarrassed if all my coworkers suddenly saw me sleeping on a plasma 100" inch TV, though. Maybe have a little consideration! Also, I don't think anyone's mentioned this before, but I think it's a cool detail that Priest's in a fetal position. Not only does this position bring one comfort, but it can also represent how he's about to be "reborn" as a witch of Sloth. The sphere he's sleeping in can kinda be a uterus, right?

Belphegor and Mikhail replying to each other while Leah was suffering out of confusion was funny. She got the straight man role forced onto her. Miha's "I see!" was cute. Very casual, as if he wasn't talking to a Demon Lord lol. To be fair, Bel is not really intimidating.

Meanwhile, Vir is busy trying to lead his shounen manga team to victory... (or not really.) They'll definitely get some piece of Belphegor though. I wonder what it'll be... he doesn't have anything like Asmodeus' eyes sticking out, so this is a mystery to me.

Me when I get excited about an interest of mine and end up yapping too much

Dante and Vergilius are heading to the same place, so they'll meet up again... I'm looking forward to the mess that comes out of that 👀.

Imuri needs to step up her game, or I'll be taking matters into my own hands because this is ridiculous. Femme Fatale? Wtf are you talking about. Fraudmuri. The Demon Lord of Fraud. Her true title.

Her biggest crime so far is being more in love with the idea of being in love with Priest than actually caring for him. Does that make sense? So far, she hasn't done any effort in actually coming to know him. She needs to KNOW!!!! At least I can respect that she also takes male rivals seriously... and her aggressiveness towards them. Lole.

She doesn't call Priest "sleepyhead" in the JP raws. I don't really mind the addition, but I thought it was worth noting here anyway. Makes it cute.

"It'll be over soon" Naw bro Imuri is coming at you with a fucking sledgehammer. Watch out.

Tiny Imuri is so fawking cute. I've been craving these Imuri flashbacks for forever because we know virtually nothing about her. What moves her. Why does she long to love!! We'll know in due time, I guess. But please show me a bit of it, Aruma-sensei...

Asmodeus being considerate enough to make sexual things vague to Imuri is nice, but it confuses me a bit. Well. I shan't dwell on it, lest my head blows up.

Imuri seems to have some complex about being a demon with no demon power, because she keeps asserting that she is a demon? Am I explaining this properly? Like in this chapter (ch.70) and chapter 3.

Anywho.

Imuri imagining the BL route... save me... my fucking sides... I burst out laughing the first time my eyes laid on that panel. True to her succubus nature, she didn't even consider the possibility of them using blood or whatever else instead of straight-up KISSING. Those are still bodily fluids, right?? Calm down, girl! Stay put!!!

"I'm not letting his first kiss go to some guy that just appeared!!" HE'S BEEN THERE FOR A DECADE! YOU ARE THE NEWCOMER!!! IMURI, GIRL!! You absolute buffoon! Clown, even!

Whew. Lmao.

This arc also feels like a callback to that one "sleeping beauty" comment from chapter 3.

...except their roles have switched.

This time, Imuri will be the one kissing Father on the cheek to wake him up, and it'll be so, so cute. Trust. Trust me. This will happen. (Going insane).

Go and make him your witch, Imuri... Dew it... Make a move... (screaming and crying)

[onboardsorasora]

7. Made out while in costume at a Halloween Party (I feel like you’d have fun with this one 😈)

Hi Isabeellllll! You're right, I did have fun playing around with this. I have no clue if it is any good or makes sense though 🤣🤞🤞

cw: smut

Max glared across the room at Charles who was giggling merrily and hanging off of Carlos' arms. Lando was there too, very unhappily if his skull painted pout was anything to go by. 

He was supposed to be a skeleton he had said, he and Carlos were supposed to match. But when Carlos had walked in as the perfect Wario to Charles' Daisy– well let's say the pout was a step up from the murderous look from before.

It didn't matter because Max was still annoyed at Charles. They were having a joint birthday party this year in Texas and it was Charles' idea that they have a Halloween themed costume party. 

That wasn't the problem. The problem was that Charles wanted to be in charge of the costumes— and Max, like an idiot, let him. He truly only had himself to blame. Really he did. But he would still blame Charles. Because it made him feel better.

He flounced to the bar, ignoring the flutter of his skirts as he did so. His crown kept shifting atop his head but so far it hasn't fallen all the way off. He wished it were on a hat or something so he could keep track of it. You can't be Princess Peach without a crown, or so Charles had said when Max threatened to chuck it.

The bartender handed him his gin and tonic and Max took a grateful sip.

"Oh Maxy, Maxy, Maxy." The sultry growl made goosebumps rise on Max's glove covered arms. 

Max glanced behind him to see Daniel in his usual skinny jeans, band tee and flannel. He also had wolf claws and ears and fur sticking out in random places. But it was the look in his eyes that truly had Max shivering. It was… predatory.

"Hi Daniel. Do you want a drink?" Max asked, proud that his voice didn't shake or crack.

Daniel stepped forward and crowded into his space. He ran his nose along the slope of Max's neck behind his ear. Max felt some of the fake fur tickle his skin. 

"Daniel?" Max breathed out. He could hear the chatter of the party around them, as drivers got drunker and rowdier. They were at the bar at the back of the room, tucked out of the way, which is probably why Daniel felt brazen enough to do this.

"I'll have a beer, and a shot of tequila Maxy." He spoke lowly into Max's ear. Max nodded stiffly and called over the bartender who was making himself as invisible as possible. The drinks came quickly and Max handed the shot glass to Daniel who—

Daniel bent and grasped the shot glass with his lips, brushing teasingly along Max's fingers as he went. He broke eye contact only when he tipped his head backwards to swallow the liquor. Max numbly accepted the empty glass again and handed over the full bottle of beer. He swallowed the lump in his throat and licked his lips. 

Max wondered what Daniel was up to, they were– they hadn't– in a while. Not since before Zandvoort when Daniel got injured. But he'd been back on the grid since Qatar but they hadn't— Daniel was busier now than he was before the summer break. That's what Max told himself, why they hadn't met up. Why Daniel hadn't invited him over.

"What are you supposed to be?" Max found himself asking. He sipped some of his forgotten drink, his throat was parched.

Daniel smiled wolfishly, it was the only way to explain it. "Me, Pierre and Hulk are a big bad wolf pack."

Max looked around the hairy man to glimpse other equally hairy men in the room. "Clever."

"You look good enough to eat." Daniel's voice dipped again and Max felt a blush bloom as he watched Daniel look him up and down pointedly. Max felt his spine stiffen a little, as ridiculous as the outfit was, he still thought he looked good when he put it on. The pink suited him and the cut of the top showed off his shoulders and chest. Clearly Daniel liked it as well, an added bonus.

Daniel grabbed Max's hand and pulled him out of the room.  They found an empty office and Daniel wasted no time in pressing Max up against the wall and pressed their lips together in a filthy kiss. Daniel pressed his palm into Max's chest, cupping a tit under the sweetheart neckline.

"But Daniel…what big teeth you have." Max's breath hitched as Daniel mouthed at his exposed neck. He moaned and tilted his head backwards ignoring the ting of his crown hitting the floor.

"All the better to crawl under that dress and eat you whole… my dear." Daniel braced his knee between Max's thighs and swallowed his whimper. He licked into Max's mouth and groaned.

"Daniel— please."

Daniel slid to his knees and draped the fabric over his head to envelope himself in Max's scent. Daniel grinned, running his hands up naked legs, and squeezing his thick thigh. He saw Max's knees buckle and pressed his nose against his brief covered erection to help steady him.

Max whined above him and Daniel mouthed at his cock and balls. He only teased for a little longer before dragging Max's briefs down and enveloped his cock with his hot mouth. Pressing his nose into Max's pubes and inhaling deeply then exhaling in a drawn out hum. 

Max made a strangled moan above him and Daniel got to work, sucking greedily at Max's weeping dick groaning at the taste of his pre come on his tongue. it truly didn't take long, not with how worked up Max had been, and soon he was coming down Daniel's throat, cupping the crown of his head through the skirts.

Daniel cleaned Max up and stood, pulling the voluminous fabric from around him. Max watched him, dazed and smiling.

"Let me–"

"No Maxy" Daniel kissed him soundly, licking the freckle on his lip for good measure. "I'm going to come all over you after I rip this dress off of you. Yeah?" Daniel watched as the words registered with another wolfish grin.

[lestappenforever]

Let Them Sing (I'll Make You Scream) - The Monza Lestappen fic

Two things:

This fic was never supposed to exist, but ever since the appearance of my lovely Monza anons earlier this week, I haven't been able to get this idea out of my head.

I'm posting the full fic on Tumblr for the first time ever because it wouldn't have existed if it wasn't for the anons. You can find the fic on AO3 here.

Monza anons, this one is all for you. ❤️

(And the lovely @f1writingbyme for coming up with the title.)

---

“Max,” Charles breathes, his fingers tightening their hold on the blond strands.

Max hums against him, his tongue and two fingers quickly driving the Monégasque towards the edge of insanity as they work him open. Max’s other hand around his cock tightens its hold, wrist flicking deliciously as he reaches the head on the next stroke.

Charles shudders, pushing his head into the pillow as his eyes roll back into his head.

The Dutchman crooks his index finger, brushing against Charles’ prostate, drawing a breathless keen from him.

And yet, all Max is able to hear is the many, many singing voices from outside, their song forcing its way through the closed windows, through the closed balcony doors, penetrating Max’s mind when all he wants to hear is the beautiful noises he knows he can draw out of Charles.

“For fuck’s sake,” Max hisses as he pulls back, his tongue and fingers slipping out of Charles.

The Monégasque groans his protest, forcing his eyes open to look down at Max between his legs. But Max isn’t looking at him, too busy staring at the balcony doors with narrowed eyes. The firm set of his jaw is enough to let Charles know that Max is clenching his teeth together, which he always does when he’s frustrated.

“Will they shut the fuck up if you go out there?” he asks, finally moving his gaze from the balcony doors to Charles.

There’s a flush on his cheeks and his lips are glistening with saliva and lube. His hair, where Charles’ hands are still curled, is sticking up in every direction. There’s irritation — anger — in his eyes that looks like a raging storm on its way to wreak havoc on whatever stands in its way. It shouldn’t make Charles’ dick twitch with want, and yet, that’s exactly what it does.

“Why? Are they distracting you?” Charles asks, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Max pinches the inside of his thigh, hard. “The fact that they’re not distracting you is a little concerning.”

Charles shrugs. “What can I say? I like being worshiped.”

“I know,” Max agrees, leaning in to nibble at the inside of Charles’ other thigh, sending a full-body shudder through him. “I’m kind of trying to worship you here. So get your ass out there and give them a little wave so we can get back to it.” He slaps Charles’ thigh playfully for good measure.

Charles snorts, lifting his leg and gracefully moving it over Max’s head so he can roll to the side of the bed and get to his feet. He hastily gets dressed, foregoing boxers, and makes his way to the balcony, unlocking the door and pushing it open.

Max rolls onto his side on the bed, watching as Charles steps outside and listening to how the Tifosi crowd waiting below the balcony fucking roar at the sight of him. It makes the Dutchman roll his eyes because the love the Italian fans have for Ferrari — for Charles — is borderline ridiculous. It’s unlike anything Max has ever seen anywhere else, and it’s everything Charles deserves. He deserves to have fans as devoted to him as the Tifosi, and Max sees how much it means to him. Hell, his post-qualifying interview that very same day and how Charles needed to stop midway to take it all in before barreling on in Italian proved just how much it means to him.

Does Max believe that Ferrari deserves Charles? At the moment, absolutely not. But there is no denying that Charles deserves this.

He watches as Charles waves to the crowd — watches as the Monegasqué fishes his phone out of his pocket to capture this moment, their devotion — and he wonders what the crowd would think if they knew that their Il Predestinato had been spread open by Max Verstappen’s fingers and tongue mere minutes before. Wonders what they would think if they knew that as much as Charles is enjoying their attention, he’s probably thinking about how badly he wants to get back into that hotel room and have Max fuck him until he can’t even remember his own name, let alone remember what the Tifosi refer to him as.

Smiling, Max wraps a lube-slicked hand around his dick and starts stroking himself slowly, watching Charles from the back as he gazes down at the crowd. A full minute passes before Charles glances back at him over his shoulder, and that soft, adoring smile is quickly replaced by something else as his eyes follow the movement of Max’s hand on his dick. Something primal. Something urgent.

Max winks at him.

The Monegasqué’s cheeks flush a lovely shade of pink before he turns back to the Tifosi, giving them another few seconds of his attention before he waves them goodnight and retreats into the hotel room, shutting the balcony doors behind him and drawing the curtains. He’s naked and on the bed, straddling Max’s hips in a matter of seconds.

“Not distracted anymore?” Charles asks as he reaches behind himself and gets Max’s hand out of the way, replacing it with his own around the base of the Dutchman’s cock.

Max’s hands come up to grip Charles’ waist, sucking in a sharp breath as the Monegasqué manages to stroke him despite the slightly awkward angle. “They’re not as loud anymore,” Max says, sounding slightly out of breath as his fingers sink into Charles’ soft skin. “The power of Il Predestinato.”

Charles huffs a laugh and shakes his head, but he doesn’t argue. After all, you can’t argue with the truth: the way the crowd had stopped booing Max almost entirely ahead for his post-qualifying interview when Charles motioned for them to stop was proof enough of the power he holds with the Tifosi.

As Charles positions the head of Max’s cock against his entrance, Max squeezes Charles’ waist.

“If only they could see you like this, baby,” Max purrs, watching with awe as Charles lowers himself slowly onto Max’s aching cock. A soft moan escapes him at the warm tightness that surrounds him.

Charles gasps, eyes fluttering shut as he sinks down further, his body taking Max’s length and girth with ease. Max’s hands move from his waist to Charles’ hips, holding him in place once Charles is fully seated on Max’s cock, keeping him from moving back up.

“If only they knew that their precious Il Predestinato lets Max Verstappen fuck him every chance he gets,” Max goes on, watching as Charles bites his bottom lip in a futile attempt to hold back a moan. “How do you think they’d feel about that, Charles?”

Charles braces himself with his hands on Max’s chest as he slowly raises his hips, aided by Max’s strong hold on them. He doesn’t stop moving until the head of Max’s cock is only barely still inside of him. And he stays like that, hovering above Max.

“Would you like to go out there and find out?” Charles asks, his voice cracking slightly on the last syllable. He watches the way the Dutchman’s eyes turn darker with desire. With need.

“No,” he says through gritted teeth, as Charles slides back down agonizingly slowly, making Max’s head spin. “I’m the only one who gets to see this side of you.”

Charles hums, clenching around Max’s cock teasingly and drawing a bitten off moan from the Dutchman. Outside, the tifosi are still gathered outside the gates, singing their hearts and lungs out. Although Max was right about them having gone a little more quiet now, their chants and songs and screams are still loud in the room. He leans down, letting his lips brush against Max’s. “Think you can make me drown them out?” he whispers.

In the blink of an eye, Charles is the one on his back on the bed with Max kneeling between his legs, his hands on either side of Charles’ head and their faces mere inches apart. When he speaks, Max’s breath ghosts over Charles’ lips.

“You think I can’t?” he asks, and Charles knows there’s only one right answer to that question.

But, the right answer won’t get him the Max Verstappen he so desperately wants tonight. So Charles gives the wrong one, lying through his teeth.

“No, I don’t think you can.”

And, well, Max Verstappen has never been one to back down from a challenge.

He claims Charles’ mouth in a kiss that is every bit as frantic and desperate to prove something as Max feels, tongue and teeth doing everything in their power to steal every breath from Charles’ lungs as Max’s hips immediately take up a damn near brutal pace. And when Max pulls away from Charles’ lips in order to grab onto his hips to really start fucking the Monegasqué with vigor, Charles can do absolutely nothing except for hold on for dear life and letting the intense pleasure overtake him.

And when Charles comes with a scream that is loud enough to drown out the screams of the tifosi, Max is dragged right over the edge along with him.

The tifosi can scream the name of Ferrari’s golden boy all they want, because two-time World Champion Max Verstappen is the only one who can make Charles Leclerc scream his name in bed whenever the fuck he wants.

And if that makes Max feel more superior than winning any race or any championship ever has, then, well… That’s nobody’s business but his own. (And Charles’.)

[ananke-xiii]

My ranking of SPN seasons (based only on their PLOT) pt. 2

In my previous post I'v covered the following:

15: Season 14

14: Season 15

13: season 7

12: season 3

11: season 6

Let's continue!

10. Season 13: this season was a HUGE disappointment to me. The first 6 episodes are brilliant, the writing is excellent, the actors gave their best performances, the scenes were well thought out, the pacing is slow but keeps the audience interested. The plot is intriguing: the heroes are mouring the death of Castiel while trying to both find a way to find their mother and to take care of Jack. In the meantime, the audience comes to understand that there's a new player in town: The Empty. It's mysterious, it seems evil, it seems total. I'm hooked. However, after episode 6 the plot sort of changes, it's like the first 6 episodes were a completely different season. By the end of season 12 we were already introduced to the existence of a parallel world and after episode 6 of season 13 we kind of explore more of it. The plot goes in that direction: the heroes must go to the alternate universe to save their mother. However, frankly, it's all very messy and overly complicated. I'm usually super pro AU, different timelines, same characters but from parallel realities and the like, but this time I was not engaged. I felt quite let down by this season (which also ends in a ridiculous battle that, once again, undermines everything that was said&done in season 5 but OKAY!).

9. Season 12: this season is a bit of a mystery to me. The main plot is: find Lucifer, consequently find Kelly Kleine and ultimately find Lucifer's son. So far so good. I like it. Clear, linear yet stimulating. The subplot is Mary Winchester and the British Men of Letters. Now, while I enjoyed Mary's character I utterly hated the whole BML arc. Just hated it. That Ketch? I hate him. I have no rational reason to explain why but I really hoped he would be killed off by the end of the season but surprise! He'll stick with us until season 15. Not amused. To be fair, the BML is not really a subplot, more of a parallel plot in that it has no correlation whatsover to the main plot. Also, some crazy shit happens in this season like Dean and Sam get caught by a super special police force, are imprisoned for like 3 months or something? unalive themselves, come back to life by making a reckless deal with Billie the reaper, and then go back to normal and no mention of it all is ever made. Well, okay writers' room. All in all, I gotta say that I place this season here in my ranking because it has some amazing episodes and the ending is a bomb. So I gotta give credit where credit's due.

8. Season 1: hear me out, I know that for some this is an iconic season and, honestly, fair enough. But, as any other season 1 of the majority of TV shows, the plot is not exactly exciting? Sure, we get to know our heroes and their backstories, but there are no allies, no other interesting characters, the 2 heroes seem to be living in a vacuum. The plot is simple, clean and intriguing enough to keep you watching, but it doesn't exactly keep you on your toes.

7. Season 10: oh my, oh my. Season 10. WELL. I have to confess that I hated this season with a passion. This is where I was tempted to stop watching Supernatural. I'll tell you why but first, the plot: Sam and Cas try to save Dean from the Mark of Cain. The subplots? Cas trying to bring angels back to Heaven (?), then the whole Castiel/Claire arc, then again Castiel vs Metatron, the mini and insignificant arc centered on Cole... Many, too many for my taste. The effect is that all these subplots are smoke in the eyes to cover for the total absence of creativity to solve the Mark of Cain plot. HOWEVER, however. Since I hated it with a passion, I've decided to watch some episodes again and to read some meta about it. And I gotta say, I was not paying attention. Sure, the plot is what it is and I won't change my mind about it, but ACTUALLY what happens in this season is that the REAL plot is characters' development, specifically Dean's and, to a lesser degree, Cas's. It also makes more sense if you understand that the whole season is about the Dean-Crowley-Cas love triangle. If you get that, you will enjoy the season. I didn't and, as a result, I didn't quite like it. But I gotta be honest and say that the writing for this season was pretty good. Finally, like season 7, this is a connecting season, it prepares us for season 11 where the real prize is. So, in retrospective, I think it deserves ranking number 7 because it didn't give us anything substantial in terms of events but the characters grow a lot after this season so good for them (and for us).

[chaggie-supporter]

Sunday special:

○|PT.9: INSANE DUCKS pt.1|○

Last night was mad. As a summary, Angel went off to work, and he looked really bad when he came back. From what I gathered, Charlie pissed off his boss, and that made Angel angry? Or something along those lines. Husk didn't help. In fact, he seemed to just make him angrier, to the point where he stormed out. Then Vaggie got mad at Husk and told him to go find him. Husk obviously wasn't too happy with that arrangement. Then, if that wasn't enough, the two of them came in talking like a newly wedded couple, as if none of them were angry in the first place! I went to bed after charlie apologised a hundred times, and Angel basically said how he wasn't really angry at her.

SO WHAT WAS ALL THAT ABOUT???

I woke up late this morning and came down to a few things. First off, Charlie's even more of a mess than she was before. Actually, everyone looks like a mess. There's also decorations hanging everywhere, and they've let Niffty cook.. something. I spot Angel and walk up to him.

"Hey, what's all this for? What's going on?" I ask him.

"Oh, hey toots. Charlie's dad is coming in less than an hour." He said. That's it? All this for an old man? I'm about to question further, but Charlie calls out to me.

"Alex! Thank god you're awake! I would really appreciate it if you could get a cake! Niffty's making cookies, but I don't know how we'll that's going to go. Please?" I think about it for a moment. I mean, it means I'd have no chance of having to help decorate.. but I'll also be back in the streets of hell alone.

Yeah, I'm gonna do it anyway.

"Okay, sure then." I tell her.

"Yes, thank you!" And she pushes me towards the door, and before I step out, Vaggie taps my shoulder.

"Hey. If anyone does anything to you, punch them square in the neck. They'll be out like a light." She says. I nod, before leaving onto the streets.

I'm about maybe a mile down, when I realise, I have no clue where I'm going. I must've reached the main town as there's many buildings and people, and so I begin my search for some sort of shop that might sell a cake. In hell.

This is ridiculous.

I push and weave through people whilst trying to avoid fights, when one sinner catches my eye.

He looks old, with a round face, and hair that comes to two long spikes on either side. He wears a top hat that has two feathers sticking out of it, one having a patch on it. He has eyebags, like he hasn't got alot of sleep, and a similar face to the toaster I had seen on my first day. He's just.. staring at everyone walking by with a stern expression. Is he crazy? Insane, maybe? He doesn't move once. I try to ignore him, and continue in my search.

After what feels like an hour, I can't find anything. So, I go for the next best option. Cupcakes. The ones I got don't look very appetising, but they'll have to do. I begin my trek back, but once I past the spot where the old guy was, he's no longer there. Huh. Weird. I wonder where ye went..

When I arrive back infront of the hotel, I see a limousine parked out the front. Who owns a limo down here?

I re-enter the hotel, to see Alastor arguing with a really short guy dressed in white, with a massive top hat. Are tophats the new rage?

Charlue runs up to me.

"Alex, your back!" She says.

"Yeah, I am. I couldn't get a cake, so, I got cupcakes instead. That okay?" I ask. She nods and takes them off of me. The short guy turns around from Alastor and looks at me, and grows a smile. He walks up to greet me. He's proper tiny. I think Vaggie might be taller than him.

"Hello there" He says with a nervous smile. He extends a hand for me to shake, which I take.

"So.. are you Charlie's dad?" I ask as he shakes my hand quite alot, before letting go.

"Why, yes, I am! But you can call me lucifer!" And I froze. I'm not sure what I was expecting, since Charlie is the princess of hell, and this is her dad, but the name still sends shivers down your spine.

"Well uhh nice to meet you, Lucifer. I'm Alex"

I say after a moment. He just chuckles nervously.

"Yes, you too." He says, then alastor does the weird, teleporty thing with his shadows, over to us.

"Ah, Alex. Me and Charlie are going to take _our lord_ on a tour around the hotel. Have a drink ready for him coming back, will you?" He grits his teeth while saying 'our lord' and I swear that I can hear radio static. He does not like this guy. I nod, before mumbling an, 'it was nice to meet you' and just before I walk off, Lucifer pushes something into the palm of my hand before closing my fingers around it. He then walks away with Alastor and Charlie. I walk over to the bar and sit on a stool.

"One-" I begin, but Husk cuts me off.

"No" he says bluntly.

"It's not for me, idiot! It's for Lucifer." I say, rolling my eyes. He does as well, before walking off, hopefully to get a drink of sorts.

Then I remember I'm still clutching whatever Lucifer gave me, so I open my hand to see..

A bright yellow rubber duck. Huh. That's a bit random.

[retphienix]

I figure I'll be saying nothing unusual in the slightest but-

I have, overall, helped 3 separate tenno on their journey over the years in 'more than minor' ways and a few "sticking points" have become.... extremely painfully obvious in doing so.

Because when *I* was progressing through warframe, I wasn't afraid to just say "Fuck it, later" to whatever line of progression got too annoying- but when you're specifically trying to match a friend and do the same content they are doing, you can't always say that.

So things that just rolled over me and didn't have vast impacts on my experience because I simply came back when I felt like it were EXTREME STICKING POINTS for many of them- to the point where what I would initially call "Minor ideas to improve progression/grind" are now seeming more and more like "MAJOR FLAWS IN PROGRESSION THAT COULD REALLY USE ALTERNATIVE AVENUES".

And again- these things weren't that annoying For Me, but they were EXTREMELY annoying For People Who Wanted To Match Where I Am NOW, and to be frank, I agree in that context- like why the fuck are these parts of the game so bottlenecked in mediocrity.

And again again- I understand warframe as a whole has design decisions built around slowing the player down, prolonging progress, and generally not being "too" rewarding in an effort to profit off inconvenience.

I also fucking hate that, btw, I hate that we live in a time where games just do that, but I digress because this conversation is slightly more "Yeah, you could and should change that" than me just saying "Be a perfect game."

Rambling and not editing the above: The fact that the modern game still has the horrendous setup for how Fortuna/Vox rep works, where you are expected to MAX fortuna in order to even begin meaningfully doing Vox stuff like Profit Taker, where Fortuna STILL TO THIS DAY has no reasonable grind for specific bonds- with Medical Bonds being tied to ONE bounty at a low drop rate in a low amount while needing a lot of them as tribute to rank up- good luck getting our bestie to sell you enough of them or even affording that-

-or where in order to get remotely close to current stuff you have to do all the old quests, then spend a week grinding SPECIFICALLY for necramech stuff (POST NERF WHERE YOU CAN BUY DAMAGED PARTS!!!!) which DEMANDS players go fishing and mining to an extreme amount in a location that has FAR TOO FUCKING MANY DIFFERENT FISH AND ORE AND NO GOOD BAIT IN COMPARISON TO OLD OPEN WORLDS LIKE WTF IS THAT DESIGN DECISION WHEN MINING AND FISHING IN CETUS/FORTUNA IS LIKE 99% OPTIONAL FOR OPTIONAL STUFF LIKE AMP UPGRADES, ZAWS, AND KITGUNS???

-or where you ALSO have to dedicate time to grinding a fucking railjack of all things- the most MEANINGLESS mainstay in your entire arsenal by all accounts and I say that as a huge RJ fan! What does it do!!!? NOTHING! Arch can speed you up in open world! Necra can trivialize open world! RAIL! DOES! NOTHING! WHY DO YOU NEED IT FOR THE QUEST BEYOND "It's a sense of progression that you earned this :)" NO!!! STOP!!

-or even just the BASIC fact that in order to do FUCKING STEEL PATH- you know, that basic step in progression that opens up a fuckton of potential in your kit and like almost all worthwhile content is best done in steel path? Yeah? GOTTA DO EVERY SINGLE NODE! What a MEANINGLESS task! I mean it!

---

Anyways I'm just ranting I think.

Fortuna/Vox is a busted ass rep grind- there is no reason you should need to MAX Fortuna rep in order to do VOX stuff, that's just ridiculously put together and outdated. I'd bet money, because I was FUCKING THERE, that the entire reason it's STILL like that is because they were desperately trying to delay people grinding Vox rep and doing Profit Taker because, spoiler, PT wasn't there.

They made the max rep a requirement because the content behind it didn't exist yet, and then the content released bugged as fuck so they never adjusted it. It works now but too late! Keeping the STUPID fucking rep progression as is!

Forced fishing and mining (on the worst planet to do it on to boot) for KEY QUEST PROGRESSION is just fucking stupid- oh hello Necramech.

Forced Mech and RJ just to do New War is also suspect because both of them practically just get a cameo appearance in the fucking quest, yet MAJOR PROGRESSION is tied to finishing both, cool.

And *I* enjoyed clearing all the nodes. I also wasn't in any hurry to do so. But why the fuck does every single player need to complete like 250 nodes of the same handful of gametypes in order to just do SP? Ridiculously outdated and needs trimmed, either in total missions period or in what's required.

/rant because having to tell people who enjoy warframe "Oh yeah.. uh... yeah you HAVE to do that" and hearing them go "....Seriously?" fucking sucks./

[finalgirlkateausten]

this one has succession potential :) “Tomorrow is Take Your Kid to Work Day.”

Shiv is more than happy to let Tom tuck the girls into bed tonight-- their third daughter, just a few weeks from making her entrance into the world, is taking up all her energy these days, and she feels like she herself could use a seven-thirty bedtime as well.

Walking past the nursery, though, she overhears a conversation that makes her pause outside the door.

"Lainey, Genevieve," Tom says, "are you excited to come see where Mommy and Daddy work tomorrow?"

There are sleepy, high-octave noises of excitement, but Shiv sticks her head in the doorway to make eye contact with her husband. "Tom," she hisses, "what?"

He blinks up at her, his work shirt rumpled, his eyes deep and calm. "Tomorrow is take your kid to work day."

"Okay, well, we're not doing that," Shiv says, grimacing and avoiding the curious gazes of her daughters, who are already enticed by the offer. "That-- that doesn't apply to the CEO-- right?"

"Why shouldn't it?" Tom cocks his head, his lips pressed together, the expression somewhere between confused and guilt-tripping. Shiv glares.

"Because you're going to parade them around for ten minutes and then feed them ice cream for lunch and then use them to push me out of anything you can get away with calling 'important' as if this one isn't already doing that," she snaps, gesturing to her belly under her dressing gown. "I had to suffer through the same bullshit when I was their age--" she doesn't want to get into that. Six years out and she can't talk about her father without crying or yelling, neither of which she wants to do in her daughters' room. "--besides, Gen has school."

"Do I have to?" Genevieve interjects.

"Yes," Shiv says shortly.

"I thought it was scheduled for before schools went back from Winter Break," Tom tries.

Shiv rolls her eyes. "Did you forget the part where we're paying the GDP of a small country to have her in private school? The schedule's different, Tom."

"Mommyyyyyy, why not?" Lainey pleads, the last word turning into a whine.

Shiv sighs, resists the urge to roll her eyes, and sits down on her youngest daughter's bed instead. "Because, honey," she says, as patient as she can, "Mommy and Daddy are both very busy. It's not fun for you guys while you're so small. We have to do important work, and if we're worried about you two wandering off or getting into trouble, we won't be able to work well. You would just be watching shows or coloring like you do with Chloe, but it wouldn't even be that fun because we won't be able to do it with you."

Genevieve's brow furrows first. "That's boring."

Shiv nods in agreement, matching the ridiculously serious expression on her daughter's face. "It is."

"Don't wanna go work," Lainey declares, her voice full of the whining vowels and blurry consonants of toddlerhood. "Wanna go playground."

"It might be too cold for that, sweetheart," Tom interjects.

Shiv glares at him, wishing he would get her pretty fucking clear message to shut his mouth. "We'll see, honey. You can ask Chloe in the morning."

Lainey nods, seeming satisfied. "Tired now."

Genevieve pouts. "Noooo, I don't wanna go to bed. One more book?"

"We've already read three, honey," Tom says, but Shiv reaches around her belly and her daughter curled into her side and pulls Goodnight Moon from the nightstand.

"I've got them," she tells her husband. "You can get ready for bed."

Tom stands but hovers, looking uncertain.

Shiv adjusts Lainey where she's pillowed against her sensitive breasts and wraps her other arm around Gen. "Go," she insists. "I'll stay here for a while."

Tom finally leaves, and the tension in the room disappears. Relieved, Shiv reads until she's hoarse and her girls are both asleep, and then, in the middle of the large but not-big-enough nursery bed, she falls asleep herself.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

So, with all the horrid stuff coming your way, Ange, I'm going to sit and counter it all.

Now, to those of you who seem to be convinced that she owes you interaction, know this: Nobody helped her get any interaction when she started. She did it all on her own. Ange is a phenomenal writer, and a lot of us in the fandom know it.

Now despite this, she chooses to be supportive of new writers that she happens across.

Exhibit A: ME.

I started writing here in the fag end of March, so that's like 3-4 months that I've been here. Now I need you guys to know this - I'm 21 and I've just started my career as a writer [I plan, curate and write content in the digital marketing space in ENGLISH] and there have been many times over the last few months where I've been ridiculously insecure about my capabilities, and I've doubted whether or not I'm good at my job many times.

This has to do with the fact that I come from a non-English speaking country. I speak three different languages a lot more than I speak english - meaning, I'm bound to make mistakes. But there's not a lot of room for that when you're a professional.

Now, my english is not shitty by any means. Some may say it is really good. But here's the thing - there is a lot of colloquialism in the way I speak. There is the Indian way of speaking, and there's the native, international way of speaking. The Indian way of speaking is not far off - but I am a professional who writes content for an international digital space. I'll have to better myself. That's why I came here. I wanted a fun way to practice writing!

Now, enter Ange - for those of you who may not know, she's a native english speaker who writes for a living too, with considerable experience if I'm not wrong. She's my beta. She proofreads the ever-loving shit out of my work, and whatever you guys read - believe me. It was not that great when I sent it to her.

With every correction you make, you makes my writing better. I learn from you each time, and I freak about my stories with you. I literally do by side-by-sides for fun, just to see what you've changed and mentally kick myself coz "HOW THE HECK DID I NOT SEE THIS SOONER?"

I was hired at my job because my employer saw potential, but it was under the promise that I get better with each day. And you have no idea how much of an impact the kinks you iron out in my work have had on me and my writing. I trembled about posting here when I did for the first time, and now I'm confident enough not to beat myself and actually feel proud. Not just here, but at work too. A lot of it has to do with you, and I'm so glad that I write here because this was supposed to be a silly little hobby - but now it's more.

So NO. You guys are wrong. Not only is she insanely supportive of new writers on the block, she also goes above and beyond for anyone who wants help with their fics. She always takes care to give my work her very best, because I believe it's just who she is.

But you know what I had to do for it? I had to approach her. Nicely. Because what you give is what you get. I was nice enough to her, and she's given it back to me. There are many writers apart from me who'd gladly talk about how she's supported them too. Nice people, who were good to her.

So no, you don't get to feel entitled to her time and expect good treatment from her. Not when you never tried.

Now, to those of you who seem to be intent on being mean to her for no reason, saying stuff like she may not be cool IRL-

I have been ridiculously anxious and painfully self-conscious my whole life (thanks mum and dad.) It has seriously affected my outwardness, which is why I keep to myself here unless I have something nice to say about someone's writing.

I only regularly talk to a handful of people here because I like sticking to those I'm comfortable with, and Ange is easily one of those few. She's insanely understanding my timidness and makes it very easy for me to talk to her. She's part of the reason why tumblr is a safe space for me, and she is one of the few that I seek out to talk to here. She supported me when I had fandom drama, and I am more than thankful that I have her in my corner here.

Now I like to think that if she's that nice here, she could only be a 1000 times better IRL.❤️

So yeah, that's my piece. I'm glad you turned anon off ange. You deserve a happy space here, and I hope all the way to the moon and back that you get it. For all that you've been put through here, you deserve nothing else. Ilysm bb, have the day you deserve. You are so loved here.❤️🫂

Sam, this made me tear up. Thank you so much for your sweet words. You are truly one of the kindest souls I have ever had the pleasure of meeting on this hellsite, and I will gladly be your beta for as long as you're happy to put up with the glacial pace I edit at. I love you <3

[cellsshapedlikestars]

while bridgerton is classic regency romance, i’m also really partial to mary balogh. her westcott, bedwyn, and survivor’s club series are all really good

I'll admit, I've only read one Bridgerton book. I mostly liked it until the end when she tried to deal with trauma and it felt very clunky and poorly done. It was the second book, with Kate & Anthony, who I... didn't hate like I did in the show 😂

Funnily enough, Mary Balogh wrote the book I just finished. Someone to Love from The Wescott series, and you know what. I actually NEED to talk about this book so I'm using this golden opportunity to ramble and I'm sorry.

I'm gonna preface by saying that besides these two points, I very much enjoyed the plot and was very engaged by it

Let's get this out of the way first: very often I come across issues in romance books where something makes me real uncomfortable. In this one, it was the main dude finding some mystical Chinese man to teach him kung fu and make him all powerful or whatever. Like... YIKES. And this was published in 2016

Now that that's out of the way, the thing I REALLY need to talk about (though much less serious/important).

So the main guy's whole thing is that he's small? Like he gets teased as a kid for looking like a girl and he's weak, blah bah blah. And that doesn't magically go away with some growth spurt, which is kind of nice! I appreciate what the author was trying to do, the male love interest doesn't have to be crazy tall & built to be sexy. Great message! But I think she just... overdid it or something? She just talks about how small he is CONSTANTLY (he's still taller than the female protagonist, so I think this is maybe why it sticks out so much? It's always from the female's POV saying how small he is (but don't worry, he's sexily lean & powerful with his kung fu muscles)). She makes mention of it in seemingly every paragraph as we lead up to the sex scene (which was disappointing and boring and awkward, I have been ruined by fanfic smut). The female protagonist is also described by the man as very stiff/proper/no frills/etc. So by the time we get to the already awkward sex scene, all I can picture is Lord Farquaad with Jaime Lannister hair trying to sensually fuck this girl who just LAYS THERE stiff as a board, and I lost my actual shit and laughed my way through the wedding night scene

*to be fair to this book, I take medical marijuana every night to help me sleep and it uh really does make everything funnier & more ridiculous. some of my best fic ideas & my most rambling tumblr posts are because of it (like now!)

**sorry to anyone who was into show Anthony Bridgerton but dear god was he a misogynistic ass and I stg that actor took the Joey Tribbiani school of smell the fart acting. no I will not be taking any notes